#tw: political viewpoint

[uncanny-tranny]

At this point, talks about "mutilated bodies" tell me everything I need to know about people's politics. I truly don't believe you can combine the idea of mutilated or degenerate bodies with anything even slightly progressive in terms of autonomy. If you believe yourself to be progressive or anything left of an unapologetic fascist, you frankly cannot truly entertain the idea that some bodies and people are inherently mutilated or degenerate. It is an inherently fascist idea.

[arbitrarycategories]

Hey would you mind sharing what the real point of jekyll and hyde is that Hollywood missed? I have never read the book

You just made my night actually THANK YOU

Long so it’s under a cut :)

(you should totally read the book, it’s not super long and it’s actually really good)

okay tw murder and suicide and like. Violence I guess. It’s a psychological thriller from the Victorian era idk what y’all expect

Alright here’s the part where I admit I’ve never seen a Jekyll and Hyde movie but I HAVE seen various iterations of him in pop culture monster movies where he’s some quirky background character yknow?? The pop culture idea of this guy is kind of wild

First things first!!! Pop culture would have you believe that Dr. Jekyll has a wife or a girlfriend or some shit that Mr. Hyde wants to ravage or cheat on or whatever!! This is false because the only female characters in the entire book are a little girl who gets trampled to establish how Evil Hyde Is and a woman who calls the cops after witnessing a murder as she took a smoke break on a balcony. Neither one of them even has a name :) this is a book with NO BITCHES okay??? There’s barely even any men

Important Character round up!

Mr. Utterson the Lawyer (most of the book is from his viewpoint)

Dr. Lanyon (a friend to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Utterson)

Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde (respected Chemist/criminal)

Poole the butler <3

And that’s IT.

Okay there’s also some parliament guy who gets murdered but like whatever. He’s just there to get killed. Bye.

So a very basic plot synopsis is that Mr. Utterson is the guy in charge of Dr. Jekyll’s Will. Because of this he happens to be sort-of-friends with Jekyll because neither of them really have many friends. They’re also both friends with Dr. Lanyon.

Mr. Utterson first becomes aware of Mr. Hyde as a person who exists when a friend (unimportant) of his tells him about this guy who trampled a little girl. Obviously this is fucked up, but the friend has more to the story. Bystanders didn’t let this guy just trample a little girl, they demanded compensation so that she could pay a doctor to help her. Hyde went to a door (which the friend points out bc he and Utterson are on a walk) and makes out a check under the name of Jekyll. And so Utterson is like. Huh what

He goes home and looks at Jekyll’s Will, and Hyde is the guy set to get all his stuff if Jekyll disappears!! And so Utterson is like well that doesn’t make sense for MY friend the Extremely Respected Chemist. So naturally he’s curious and goes poking in that polite Victorian way.

It turns out Hyde lives in Soho but is a FREQUENT visitor to Jekyll’s house, has a key and all the servants know him etc. nobody knows how he and Jekyll met and they’re all a little afraid to ask.

And then there’s a year long timeskip actually. Utterson asked and Jekyll said “yeah don’t worry about it :)” and then we just skip a year.

We come back because Mr parliament gets MURDERED in what seems to be a crime of passion by a certain Mr. Hyde. Like the fact that the guy killed was in parliament was a complete coincidence. I keep meaning to look up the guys name to see if he was a real guy who was just really hated or something but I never get around to it. Anyway. Hyde beats him to death with his cane.

OH YEAH. Break hang on.

HERES THE OTHER THING HOLLYWOOD FUCKS UP THAT I ALMOST FORGOT!!! Hyde is not Hulk!!! He’s not big he has no muscles he’s literally an itty bitty guy!! He’s described as “particularly small”, “little man”, “of small stature”. He’s tiny!!! Truly exemplifying that short people are closer to the devil etc whatever he’s itty bitty and super fucking mean like the worlds worst chihuahua given human form.

Alright back to PLOT

The police recognize Hyde pretty much from the witness description of him, and Utterson is like “well that’s easy I Know Where He Lives” but they can’t find him even though his neighbors all sell him out and they literally go to his place in Soho.

So Utterson goes to ask his good friend Jekyll, who he knows is close with Hyde, where the fuck his buddy is!!! And Jekyll is having like a full on nervous breakdown at this point. Jekyll swears that he’s “done with” Hyde and “he will never more be heard of”. He’s sweating and shaking and generally looking like he’s on drugs or something.

Hyde conveniently left a letter to Jekyll (wow!!) that basically said he had fled the country and thanks for being his friend this whole time :) Utterson has a lil convo with Jekyll where he becomes convinced that since all of Jekyll’s stuff went to Hyde if he disappeared that Hyde was planning to murder Jekyll but the heat from killing a member of parliament had scared him off so Jekyll is safe now. If what Utterson thought was happening was what was ACTUALLY happening this would probably be where the story ends. But NO. First bc Utterson hired a guy to analyze the handwriting on the letter from Hyde to Jekyll and the guy (literally named Mr. Guest) was like “yeah this is Jekyll writing with a different slant idk who he’s fooling” and so Utterson is now convinced that Jekyll is covering for Hyde for some reason

And SECOND because jekyll starts acting like a crazy person. Poole the butler shows up at Utterson’s house one day like “hey my boss is freaking me out and also his voice changed?? I think Hyde is living in his room and pretending to be jekyll”

So naturally they bust into his locked room with an axe. Like you do. It’s not his bedroom it’s like his chemistry room idk they just call it his cabinet but it’s Clearly Some Kind of Lab. Anyway they find Hyde’s dead body on the floor <3 he has pretty explicitly killed himself with cyanide.

They also find a couple letters, which make up the rest of the book.

The first one is from Dr. Lanyon (remember Lanyon?). Lanyon writes all about how Jekyll started acting like a crazy person and had him deliver a drawer (like, pulled out of a dresser and full of chemicals) from Jekyll’s cabinet to Hyde, who Lanyon has never met. The description is this part is actually really good, you can tell it’s Hyde who shows up to meet Lanyon even though it never says his name. This is the part where he mixes the chemicals like the worlds worst smoothie and then fucking Shapeshifts back into Jekyll right in front of Lanyon :) why did he Do this. At this point in the story we are hearing this from Lanyon’s letter instead of Lanyon himself because Lanyon fucking Died when it was still Uttersons pov and didn’t tell anyone what he had learned?? He thought nobody would believe him ig but he tells Utterson he has had a shock and will die within a few weeks and then he literally Does. Like what the fuck man.

The next letter is from Jekyll!! It is a confession of how exactly Hyde came to be AND WHY.

Look me in the eyes. THIS IS THE PART POP CULTURE GETS COMPLETELY WRONG!!!!!!

Jekyll, being a well respected Member of Society, wanted to expunge himself of all evil desires by splitting himself into two people, one who is good and one who is evil. He manages to make a chemical potion of some kind that lets him shift between two bodies. Here’s where the text will get you: Jekyll is an unreliable narrator.

IT DOESNT WORK!!!!! He claims that Hyde immediately felt more evil but was shocked when he switched back to Jekyll and didn’t feel any different than before. Jekyll is still just as good and JUST AS EVIL as before he downed his magic shapeshifting potion!! Jekyll didn’t invent a second, more evil form, he invented a mask he could hide behind that let him escape all accountability for his actions.

And you know the most damning proof?? The switch has started happening without him drinking the potion. He will go to sleep as Jekyll and wake up as Hyde, and it’s taking more and more doses to turn back into Jekyll. At the time he writes the letter, he is permanently stuck as Hyde, but the letter is from JEKYLL and laments the guilt he feels for actions done as Hyde. He condemns Hyde as if that IS a separate person!! But Hyde has the same mind and should that Jekyll does, just a different face, and Jekyll is lying to himself.

Anyway that’s what happens in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It’s all about this lawyer dealing with the most Batshit series of events a client has ever made him deal with <3

[nozomi-anime]

Hi!!!

Welcome to my Anime account!

This is where I'll mostly be reblogging anime shit (mostly early 2000s/moe anime shit and anime figurines)

My main account (MASSIVE TW, PLEASE READ INTRO BEFORE INTERACTING): @nozomi-kaizoku

My spam account: @nozomi-spam

Always Welcome!! (unless you end up on the DNI list somehow)

Neurodivergent people of all kinds (especially autistic and ADHD folk)

Anyone of any mental illness

FNAF fans, canon and AU (especially Tony crynight fans)

Any race, gender, sexuality, religion, disability, etc. (this is a safe space)

Any fandom (outside of what is on the DNI)

Weird/cringe people of all kinds (furries, therians, alt fashion, etc.)

Problematic in recovery people (basically any content creators who are problematic and in the process of stopping their problematic behavior) (this s a pro-recovery page)

Just cool people in general!

Anyone 14 and over

Unless I made you an exception, DO NOT INTERACT (DNI) (you will be blocked)

anyone under 14 (I'd rather not expose anyone that's really young to any sort of content that's gonna mess them up for life. Trust me, I saw some shit I wasn't supposed to at a young age and it messed me up big time.)

Anyone who openly shares their political ideology (No hate against any of you, but I've seen way too many people get into fights over one's political viewpoint, and I'd rather not have that negativity on here. I'm considered a "leftist/democrat/liberal" incase anyone is curious, but I'm not gonna talk about it much on here)

Springtrap x Ballora shippers (most of y'all are toxic as fuck and I don't like it)

DNI (no exceptions) (you will be blocked)

Anyone who fits into these categories: Ableism (especially against neurodivergent people and anyone with "evil" mental illnesses, such as NPD or BPD), Racism, Sexism/misogyny, Homophobia/ transphobia, Antisemitism, Pro-genocide of any kind, Nazis and Neo-Nazis, pro-"life", or any sort of discrimination that I haven't listed here.

People who justify literal bullying as "criticism" (seriously, it never helps, there's a difference between actual criticism that can help someone and bullying)

Tony Crynight Anti's (this is a Tony Crynight fanpage, and as such, any hate against him will be deleted and blocked)

Personality disorder Abuse believers (eg: Narcissist abuse believers)

People who make mental illness look like a quirky trend (Eg: saying "bpd = beautiful princess disorder", "I'm so OCD" etc.) (mental illness isn't fun at all, coming from experience) (ONLY APPLIES TO NEUROTYPICALS, SOME PEOPLE WITH THE DISORDER USE THESE JOKES AS A COPING MECHANISM)

Fashion Jirais (due to harassment and spreading harmful misconceptions about mental health and the Jirai community)

Anti-recovery (especially when it comes down to mental illness)

Cancel culture participants (most of yall are anti-recovery and pro-bullying.)

PS: shoutout to my friend @loser-otaku-girll for providing the dividers :3

[warm-cat-burrito]

This is legitimately just my spam blog. I have two other sideblogs, one for art/my OCs (@fennmeow) and one for therian/autism/ADHD stuff and general thoughts (@fennthetalkingdog). All I'll probably ever do here is reblog cool stuff I find, but the main reason I'm making this intro is just so I can organize all the tags I'll be using here. It'll change all the time (if I start to reblog something that requires a new tag, I'll add it here), so this will continually change.

For reference, though, I like:

Yu-Gi-Oh, Dungeon Meshi, and other anime/manga

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint, Tower of God, and other webtoons/webtoon anime

Persona 5 Royal (both the game and the manga <3)

Wings of Fire

Warrior cats

FNAF

Spiderman

Writing

(Some) K-pop songs, Vocaloid songs (Ghost and Pals <3), and music in general

Alt stuff (especially poc alt stuff)

Autism, ADHD, and therian stuff (will be limited tho since some of it will go on my sideblog)

so I'll definitely be reblogging that stuff. And I occasionally have hyperfixations, so that list is also subject to change, lol. Also I'll be putting real life stuff into either the #real life tag or the #advice tag (depending on what it is). Other stuff will be organized in one of the tags attached here (hopefully).

Also here are the links for the daily clicks for Palestine/Sudan thing because I keep forgetting and maybe you did too:

Okay so it looks like I'm gonna run out of tags soon so I'll put them under a cut (I'll save the actual tags for important and relevant ones):

🐾--------🐾

(Note: If tags have another tag next to them in parentheses, that's their spoiler tag; I try my best to use only one. And related tags can be listed in bullets beneath a parent tag—in this case all posts with the specific tag will also be tagged with the parent tag. If two tags have a "/" between them, that means they're interchangable and all posts with one tag will have the other too.)

General Trigger Warnings:

#tw blood

#tw drugs

* #tw weed

#tw eyestrain

#tw sex mention (literally for anything that mentions sex)

* #spicy (spicy stuff that may imply/describe sex but don't show it)

* nsfw (full-on nsfw stuff - I shouldn't be posting that? But just in case)

#tw syscourse (most will only be reblogged privately tho)

#tw periods

#tw politics

* #international news

* #congo

* #gaza/#palestine/#free palestine

* #haiti

* #sudan

* #tigray

* #usa news

* #us presidential debate

* #us politics

General Art Tags:

#animatic

#character design

#comic

#cool art (for art unrelated to a mentioned fandom)

* #anthro

* #artfight

* #fennmeow/#my art

* #monster

* #oc art

* #scenecore

#human designs

#suggestive

Anime:

#dungeon meshi (#dungeon meshi spoilers)

* #farcille

* #labru

* #secret lab!au (also under #crossover and #scp foundation)

#jujutsu kaisen

#mob psycho 100

* #transfem mob

* #transmasc reigen

#oshi no ko (#oshi no ko spoilers)

#tower of god (in this category since I'll barely reblog ToG webtoon stuff probably)

* #tower of god anime

#welcome to demon school iruma kun/#marimashita! iruma kun

* #iruma kun mafia if story

#yugioh

* #yugioh gx

Webtoons:

#omniscient reader's viewpoint (#omniscient reader spoilers)

Videogames:

#deltarune

#fnaf

* #fnaf movie

#legend of zelda

* #breath of the wild

* #tears of the kingdom

* #wind waker

#off game

#persona 5 royal

#slay the princess

#the stanley parable

#ultrakill

#undertale

Books:

#stormlight archive

#virals

#warrior cats

#wings of fire

Other Media:

#actirangers

#crossover (a tag for crossovers - I've gotta go back and retag stuff tho)

* #secret lab!au (dungeon meshi x scp foundation)

* #twin runes (undertale x deltarune)

#gravity falls

* #after canon AU

* #fiddleford

* #billford

* #bill(ford)^2

* #the book of bill

#lackadaisy

#musicals

* #cats the musical

* #hadestown

#my little pony

* #equestria girls

* #my little pony friendship is magic

#scp foundation

#spiderman (almost each character has their own tag in this category)

* #into the spiderverse (#into the spiderverse spoilers)

* #across the spiderverse (#across the spiderverse spoilers)

* #meows morales/#spidercat

#total drama island

#what we do in the shadows

* #my familiars ghost

Relating to Me:

#alterhuman/#nonhuman

* #otherkin

* #therian

#college things

* #major stuff (stuff about my majors)

* #minor stuff (stuff about my minors)

#for future fenn

* #for irl friends

#languages

#music

* #video game music

* #vocaloid

* #hatsune miku/#miku worldwide

#neurodivergent

* #autism

* #adhd

* #intellectual giftedness

* #overexcitability

* #stimming

#plurality

* #tulpamancy

#pride (for queer stuff in general)

#writing

* #fanfiction

* #mha fanfiction/#Rowan Call and Toby (my own mha fanfiction)

General Tags:

#important

#advice

* #drawing advice

* #job applications

#cats

#friend interactions (things like chain posts with friends)

#mental health

#pretty people

* #drag

#real life

* #comedy

* #disability

* #fundraiser

#resources (only for linked resources)

#stuff for atlas (stuff for my friend Atlas btw)

#tumblr

* #historic tumblr posts

* #poll

* #tumblr folks doing the usual

I apologize profusely for any untagged or badly tagged posts—I reblogged a bunch of stuff before I began my tagging system and some past stuff is still untagged or weirdly tagged.

[hxney-lemcn]

A Gift From God — John Ward x gn! reader

summary: Reader is forced to go to church and ends up meeting one of the priests. They think nothing much of it until they run into him again, and something blossoms between them.

tw: Slight religious truama?? Like not in depth or anything. Hard not to mention religion when it comes to a game about a priest lmao

a/n: Okay, a couple things. 1. This is gender neutral, but I do use the term school girl crush. I think it can be a gender neutral term to describe the feeling of a person if you know what I mean. 2. I tried to leave the reader's religion up in the air (?) but you can tell it leans towards atheist viewpoint. I totally made the reader relatable to me and I myself am an atheist.

wc: 1.9k

Master List

Going to church wasn’t my cup of tea. Yet the money my grandma waved under my nose just to go to church with her was too tempting. Besides, I can tune out another service and make a good $30. It’ll help pay my bills anyways. I stared up at the stage, not really paying attention. Not until the other priest starts speaking and god damn, he’s cute as fuck. I can’t help but internally chuckle as my mind couldn’t help but ogle at him. I felt saddened by the fact that I didn’t get his name, but it was whatever. It’s not like anything was going to happen.

I wasn’t as down about the service since I had a cute priest I could daydream about. I was surprised I wasn’t burning from how my thoughts weren’t really as pure as they should be. Although I tried not to let my thoughts get too weird. Once the service ended, I got up with my grandparents and we exited the main room. My grandma asked me to wait in the hallway as they wanted to speak to the priests quickly. I agreed, although I felt like they were up to something. 

I awkwardly leaned against the wall as people all dressed to the nines walked past me. I nodded politely as they walked past. I fidgeted with my hands as soon only a few people lingered and I felt out of place. I really just wanted to get out of here and watch t.v. 

“Hello, you must be (y/n),” An unfamiliar voice spoke from my left. I turned to face the person only to feel my heart drop. It was the cute priest, and the fact that he not only knew my name, but was currently speaking to me was because of my grandparents. 

I gave him a strained smile, trying not to seem like I was dying inside, “Hello Father…”

“Ward,” He supplied his name for me, a more relaxed smile on his face. “How are you on this fine day?”

“I’m alright,” I shrugged, just wanting to get this over with. “How are you?”

“Good,” He nodded. “Your grandparents shared some concerns they have.”

I felt tense and looked to the side rolling my eyes, I couldn’t hide the disdain I clearly felt at that moment, “Well I’m sorry to waste your time Father, they tend to get paranoid.”

“They said you seem to stray from religion,” He continued, which caused my frown to grow. 

“Well, I’m still figuring things out,” I shrugged. “Don’t tell them I said that, they’ll go even crazier if they know I said that.”

Father Ward nodded and gently patted my shoulder, “We all go through trials of faith, if you ever have questions or need help, do not be afraid to come to me.”

I looked back towards the brunette priest and gave him a more genuine smile, “Thank you for respecting that. I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

With a nod he bid me farewell. Then my grandparents came back, seeming more cheerful than before. I knew that people who were religious weren’t all bad, my grandparents just ruined my view on religion. But perhaps a priest of all people can prove just how not all people are bad. Although I doubt I’ll see him again. 

Which I was wrong about. I did see him again, when I was out grocery shopping of all places. I was picking out some of my favorite fruit only to see a familiar priest in casual attire checking out some vegetables. Normally, I avoid people I’ve met before if I see them again. Seeing someone I’ve met only once before tends to make my anxiety go off. And I still felt anxiety pulse through me, but something in me told me to speak up. He was really nice when we talked, so it shouldn’t be too bad to just greet him in public.

“Uhm,” I stuttered out, immediately regretting whatever made me think this was a good idea. “H-hi?”

Father Ward, the only name I knew him by currently, looked up and towards me. Confusion, surprise, and then a warm look flashed over his features in that order, “Hello!”

I felt my brain race, not sure what to say now. Once again, I regret putting myself in this situation.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” I replied awkwardly. 

“Well, I don’t live in the church,” He chuckled.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “But it’s kinda like seeing a teacher outside of school if you know what I mean.”

He laughed a bit more at that and nodded, “I can see that.”

I cleared my throat, unsure how to end the conversation, “I’ll uh, leave you to it then. Sorry to bother you.”

“Not a bother at all,” He smiled warmly in response. “You’re doing well I hope?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, surprised that he was keeping the conversation going. “Just work all day and rest at home. How about you?”

“I could be doing better,” He admitted, not meeting my eyes. “But I won’t bore you about all that.”

I felt myself frown, I already felt myself grow attached to him. Which I knew was dumb, he was a priest, so of course he’s going to be friendly. But I didn’t interact with people outside of work much anymore so it was a nice breath of fresh air. It didn’t help that this interaction was humanizing him more than how I viewed him before, as a man of God that was perfect. 

“I don’t mind you sharing,” I said softly. “Although I doubt you’d want to tell me in a grocery store.” 

“I wouldn’t want to burden you with my problems,” Ward said with a grim smile. “Besides, we barely know each other. You don’t even know my first name.”

“Well,” I said a bit dumbly. “Then tell me.”

He hesitated, “John.”

“Nice to meet you John,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe we could catch a movie or something and get to know each other better.”

That day, a relationship grew. We had a small home made dinner at my house and well…got to know each other better. After that, we’d hang out here and there. It was really nice. He was a sweet guy, although a bit disturbed. He opened up to me about his past. Not much, but I could piece things together. He told me he partook in an exorcism gone wrong, how after he wasn’t well mentally but got help and how he was better now. How he had a wife but they got divorced a few years ago, but how she wasn’t at fault, and he understands her reasoning.

So I did some research. I found out about Amy Martin, how she was now in psychiatric care, and how terrible the entire situation was. I knew that if John wanted to tell me his perspective of the event, he would in his own time, I don’t want to reopen any wounds. All I wished was to be a new support in John’s life, someone he knows he can lean on when he needs it.

One night, John and I planned on watching a movie, at my house he persisted. I didn’t mind. I made some popcorn, got some sweets I bought just for tonight, and set it all out on my coffee table. A knock on the door made me perk up and I got up to answer it right away. I smiled brightly as I saw John stand on the other side. His face showed relief and I immediately became worried. I noticed how he had dark circles under his eyes and my assumption was he must’ve had a nightmare again.

I ushered him in, asking if he wanted anything to drink, which he asked for some water. I got a glass of water as quickly as I could before walking back into my living room. He thanked me as I handed him the glass and I sat down next to him.

“What’s wrong?” I asked softly, hoping not to startle him into keeping to himself.

His blue eyes met mine, but looked away quickly after sipping some of the cold water. It was silent for a few seconds before he confessed, “I had another nightmare.”

I licked my lips, unsure of where to go from here. I’ve never been the best at comforting people. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He became tense and I knew that was the wrong thing to say, “I’d rather try and forget about it.”

I nodded in understanding, “Did you still want to watch a movie? We could do something else as well.”

“You seem to have put a lot of effort into our movie night,” John smiled shyly. “And with you by my side I feel better already.” 

I felt my heart skip a beat and I tried to act calm. I always found him attractive, but the more I got to know him, the harder I seemed to fall. I felt like a schoolgirl getting a crush, it was so embarrassing. I mean he was a priest after all, could he even date? I  mean he mentioned his ex-wife before, but I was still unsure about all that. He still seemed to really care for her after all. 

“Well I’m glad I can give you some form of comfort,” I smiled sheepishly back. “Need a hug?” I opened my arms at the invite, hoping I’m not coming off like an idiot. 

He hesitated once more, before slowly wrapping me in an embrace. I rubbed his back in a soothing manner. I felt myself melt into the hug, not used to being touched in such an affectionate manner. Though I reminded myself that this was for him, and to make him feel safe, a small part of me wanted to be selfish and indulge myself with the warm feeling overtaking me. 

I pulled away slowly, “I’ll go start the movie real quick.” I whispered, feeling like a volume any higher would break the moment. 

I went over to my collection of VHS tapes and picked out Back to the Future. Slipping the tape into my VHS player, I joined John on the couch once more. I glanced over at John, and bit my lip in thought. I could play it risky and offer to hold him…I mean he still seems a bit shaken and it’s totally not because I just want to…

I leaned against the arm of the couch, mindlessly watching the movie. I glanced at John once more and made up my mind. I tapped him on the shoulder, gaining his attention. I opened my arms once more. He was still slightly hesitant, but accepted the offer once more. This time I leaned back and he was laid on top of me. I went back to ‘watching’ the movie, hoping he wouldn’t say anything. I thanked God as he didn’t. The movie continued playing, but all I could focus on was the cute priest that I was currently holding. 

I hope that he couldn’t hear how fast my heart was beating, but his head was resting on my chest so I’m sure he could. I absentmindedly drew shapes over his spine as I tried to distract myself from how warm I felt. I didn’t even notice that he fell asleep until the movie ended. Once the credits rolled I looked down at John, only to find his eyes shut with a peaceful look on his face. I felt myself crumble at how…honored I felt that he trusted me this much. I resigned to being a pillow, trying to get more comfortable myself. I grabbed the throw blanket that was on the back of my couch and threw it over us.

If there is a God, I can’t help but thank him for bringing John into my life.

[no-empathy-culture-is]

tw politics

no empathy culture is being more capable of seeing how inclusive mindsets are better, in the face of brutal anti-etc viewpoints pushed by people trying to leverage hypothetical other people against me.

no empathy culture is

[thequeendomhq]

NAME. “Theon Epialos" (Alcides de Contreras) AGE & BIRTH DATE. 31 & June 21st, 2992 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Cismale & He/Him NATIONALITY. Astorian SPECIES. Cubi FACTION. N/A OCCUPATION. Stonemason (Quarryman) FACE CLAIM. Michael Trevino

biography

( tw: mutiny, death, violence, gore )

The only Astorian heir is brought forth on the precipice of a truce, Iskaldrik and Astoria had long clashed upon the soil of Astorian land; they’re known for their control over much of the world’s grain, but equally known for their poverty. Alcides, the King’s only son to survive the strain of adolescence, was a mark of a prosperous ideal; where once they were at the helm of successfully navigating the political ties of this world they’ve fallen short, infamous only for their golden fields and not the current legacy of the King’s notable foibles. Alcides understood swiftly that his father’s fatal flaw was likely his aloof benevolence; instead of leading with a heavy hand, squashing the wandering beliefs of others, King de Contreras was more enraptured with the spoils of leadership; gladiator competitions, the ruse of public executions, fanatical games that kept the Astorian people mindlessly contented with his lawless leadership, though not necessarily inspired. 

Alcides was free spirited, perhaps as naive as his father was, but the Astorian heir was at least privy to the excuse of his adolescence in comparison to a King and father who stumbled within the gift of his leadership. Many mistakes littered the King's reign, but the most consequential would lead to his inherent demise; his failure to dismiss the worship of any but the One; false gods cropped up from time to time but the devout polluted the streets, they always crooned their ears to listen to those who betrayed the One; a dangerous realm where the de Contreras legacy was concerned. Tensions arose quickly, a childhood spattered with the lounging ability to roam the Astorian streets soon grew more isolated, stationed safely within the castle as opposition of his father’s leadership grew. Advisors were the only reassurance granted through these tense times, false beliefs that this was merely another phase that Astoria had to be appropriately ushered through despite the Vanguard that loomed. To the King that merely translated as more fervent distractions; uproarious matches, frequent gladiatorial schemes performed in the ring; if people were gleefully blindsighted by the manufactured violence they’d leave the monarchs be, right? 

Alcides didn’t quite have a voice in opposition of his father, mindless benevolence was the King’s glorified personality trait and it was also his wretched demise. Alcides was awoken to the screams of his mother, the horrified ushering from the Advisors as a mutiny finally came to the head of a listless leadership. If the Astorian regime had fallen from the glory of their former political ties, the current King’s reign merely solidified such plummet. Divine Cassiopeia, ordered their devout Vanguard to march, the militant branch of the Light, those devoted to the One God; it was under their viewpoint that order needed to be restored and so they waltzed forth to dispatch those who stood in opposition. The reign of Alcides’ family fell in unison with each dagger that plummeted into the King of Astoria; a motley of the devout, blind under their impassioned oath for their One. Silence and indifference meant being complicit to the denial of the One God’s influence and it was there where the King fell mercy to the Vanguard’s piety. Alcides survived, ushered away by those who remained loyal to a bitter end, off unto lands uncharted, far away from the city of Everlight that had resounded as the genesis of his budding life. Reverent gods were often mistakenly disregarded under the One, but Alcides, in his tormented grief, prayed to any who dared listen, no matter their influence within the coil of this earth. A governess of death heeded his call, an Old God who once heralded upon the crossroads of life. Ereshkigal, she who had been rumored to once reside over the dominion of the Great Below. She who was believed to raise prominence over the damning cycle of life and death, enforcer of the laws which retained them to the sullen domain which trapped their souls. A prayer answered under the naivety of a young man who had never been the wiser to the Gods and their promises, to the hefty dissolution that comes when bargaining with Gods. 

Alcides asked of the unthinkable; to bring back one who had met the very fate of death, his father, the fallen King of Astoria. Words were powerful, prayers and offerings more so; he’d wanted his father back, to see him walk again; the heir of Astoria never stated that he wanted his father ‘alive’ and void of pallor. Sheltered in the Astorian plains, he’d prayed and beckoned heedlessly and it was Ereshkigal who’d come to answer him. Immense power lay in her trickery, one who never let the dead slip so carelessly from her reach, when Alcides prayed for his father’s return, it came with foilable circumstances. A promise of his return was made and Alcides would answer whatever was to be asked of him when Ereshkigal willed it so. The following evening, sheltered by the shadow of the moon, silence clouded the Astorian plains where the fallen heir had sought refuge since the coup. A scratching rose in an agonizing crescendo and though everything within Alcides screamed to let it pass, there was something hauntingly familiar about the presence which loomed. Tendrils of loose skin, a gaunt complexion, but a harrowing reminiscence to his father, replaced with a mindless beast who groaned in hunger. A stifled scream, something of shock was the only perceptive response to leave Alcides, stumbling back from the very plea he willed to reality; his father could walk, he’d been brought back, but the pieces fit incorrectly, an indelible shift to what the heir had always known. 

A cruel fate, a prayer that folded in on itself as Alcides’ task came to light; to kill the monstrosity that had morphed from his plea. Devotion was just as hefty an ingredient as the souls Ereshkigal and many other Gods collected. Alcides could not commit to such a horrific act, though a husk of the former glory his father had been, this creature still bore the vivid resemblance to everything Alcides remembered. Putting the creature out of its misery would be an act of kindness, but the fallen heir was stuck in his immovable shock. A dagger in hand, but one that would not come to strike the bloated and lethargic beast; throughout everything, Alcides would stay loyal to whatever apparition his father had become, even if whatever blankly stared back at him could do no more than amble about with infrequent, famished, groans. Gods were cruel, their answerings crueler, and when Alcides failed within his act of piety the fallen heir’s identity was pruned further. 

Forever marked and corrupted by his failure, Alcides understood that no patron could salvage what he sought, and though he was marked for damnation and tethered to the Blight, he’d have to save whatever else he could of himself. Sheltered in life and completely vulnerable within his newly established threshold in the ‘undead’, the fallen heir learned quickly that rebuilding was not quite as simple; strength and merit would not be enough to stave off inevitable corruption. Throughout the bountiful plains of Astoria, his presence of Blighted damnation grew; crops withered wherever he lingered, water became easily polluted. The natural aversion to this would be to hide away, but his marred soul vied to overturn these attunements bestowed upon him and twist them to his favor. Fortune favors the brave, but perhaps it favored the cunning; if the devoted Vanguard had established themselves at the helm of Astoria then the fallen heir turned incubus would slip through the land and tear it apart at the seams. He’d be the humble man seeking shelter, he’d be the merry wanderer of the night; if the Vanguard and their clergy sought to dissolve those who believed in any but the One, he’d inspire others to deflect or wither beneath it. 

Theon Epialos; an omen and a curse, he’d never be as powerful an emissary as the God who’d cursed him to such fate, but the incubus could pretend and relent, shape the circumstances to his blighted favor. For a while, Theon slipped through the arid plains of Astoria, but Lysara and the varied culture barely contained within it called to the incubus whose life was now spurred by the mere desire of chaos and mischief. If a demon's tether to the Abyss was this perceptive stain upon their soul, a persistent calling card that bode their inevitable rot to the land, then Theon would do his best to weave around the fated decay that composed his very essence. Life was this splintered precipice on which his life now dangled, promised to the Abyss inevitably but forced to live and grovel through a yearly promise to remain earthside. Where once he could not fulfill what was asked of him, Theon now accepted with greed, an avarice to remain from the condemnation of the Abyss, to steer far from whatever monstrosities lay within the fissures and shadows uncharted. 

Theon manufactured happiness and contentment, if it was to be a life cursed then he would bask in what was granted to him; the ability to shapeshift a carapace of disguise, the charisma and resilience that now aided his hunt for souls. Astoria was impossible for him to stay within forever, the One’s influence bleeding upon every crevice of land, whether in the bustling city of Everlight, or the humble lands which surrounded it. Traveling to the Queendom, Theon has stationed himself within Eterna ever since; the frenetic thrum of the city having called to him, the incubus a budding opportunist ever since the tarnishing of his soul. 

personality

+ adaptable, extroverted, driven – manipulative, inconsiderate, deceitful

played by spirit. est. she/her.

[uncanny-tranny]

The thing that gets me the most about intersexism is the fact that... it doesn't matter how many intersex people there are - no matter if they are as common as redheadheaded people or anybody else - when the intersexist sees human bodies and their states as a inherently a political battle, an agenda to be "won," the intersex body will always be an "anomaly," something crude and unnatural, regardless of how oxymoronic the "unnatural natural body" is.

[brooklynislandgirl]

@mynameisanakin​ {{xx}}

To say time was immutable was the worst kind of fallacy. It can be stretched or dilated. It can be shrunk. Filled to the very possible edges or shut up and forgotten. It was subject to individual perception which then was galvanised by a cohesive agreement to believe in the same fractured set of moments corresponding to external reality. At least that was what her Master had explained to her once. She wasn’t sure she understood what he meant then, nor is she sure she has a grasp on it now. Or if both were the same and she just chooses to see it differently. What she is absolutely certain of is limited to a minor handful of things. The first being that hours ago the Temple had come under attack. Which meant that somehow, somewhere, something had gone catastrophically wrong. It’s the sound of screaming and pounding feet that first alert her. So of course instinct takes over. She ushers her charges ~younglings that are injured, sick, and otherwise impaired~ to the safest place she can think of.

Thrulan knows even the forgotten places, pathways that most Jedi are unaware even exist. There aren’t so many. Only three. She gives him medicine for them. All of the credits she can scrounge so they aren’t a burden on his small family. The only other thing she knows with absolute certainty is that Anakin is still alive. The agony he was in was significant. Had nearly buckled her to her knees and she wasn’t sure if he felt her reaching out to him. Offering what strength she could that he might take it, enfold it around himself, to protect him until she can find him. Likely wishful thinking, but she wanted to believe it so much that she simply accepted that as a truth. Especially when she can’t feel him reaching back. That there’s distortion thick and heavy between them.

She can only fear the worst; that Anakin is here, and she knows he is. That he is trapped in some corner unable to free himself. That he is hurt. That he is...no. Twisted and cloaked as his brilliant presence in the Force has become, it isn’t waning. She won’t let that be the truth. She won’t let him go so easily.

That becomes a third thing. The halls as she moves are too quiet in places. Too loud in others. The great library is empty. There’s so very little to find there. Even the Temple Guards are not at their posts, and of course, why should they be? They were under an attack, there was better places for them to be. Her sabre flashes as she makes her way ever closer to Anakin. Though she’s brought up short when she sees who the invaders really are. As if she wouldn’t know the legion by sight. These men, never just clones, who have been under his command, whose wounds she’s mended, whose grief she tried to ease, whose deaths and sacrifices she’s recorded painstakingly for the archives so that they might be remembered beyond purpose, beyond what they had been created for. Only to be betrayed. Why would they have turned on Ana-

No. Not...turned. Parrying blaster fire as best she can, she senses....a link. They...They... Two clones go down and she tries to press forward, stopped in her tracks seconds later by a third trooper she hadn’t seen in the shadows. His rifle is aimed at her, held level. But he hesitates. Brows knit above her eyes, sweat damp strands of hair threatening to slip into her vision as she tilts her head. “....Biscuit?” Against all hope, the trooper removes his helmet, confirming that this was in fact the one she thought him to be. The one who still had an both legs thanks to her. “My Lady. I am so sorry. I don’t want to do this.” Not General. Not Master or even Knight Ivers. Not Melakeni. But...lady. She swallows past the rapidly constricting lump in her throat.  “Wha... what is happening, here?”

The trooper looks sick, green under his tawny skin in a way that is both natural and unnatural to her and the more he speaks, the more his face hardens into a mask of duty and remorse.

He doesn’t attempt to kill her when she staggers back under the weight of this new knowledge, one palm splayed against the smooth metal wall to catch herself mid-collapse. Her mind reels. Her sabre thumps dully against the floor as that hand comes up to her chest.

She takes hold of the Force and wraps it around her like an impenetrable wall that nothing can escape from or press advantage into as her heart breaks. The faces of her friends sweep through her memory alive and full of life. They are gone. As are the Masters she has spent the last decade serving. 

Remember these lessons well, little padawan, for suffering is a crucible of strength. Her Master’s voice comes to her unbidden and she knows he still lives as well. Where she cannot quite tell. But the voice, a silken thunder of a whisper in her ear, is not wholly wrong. She knows as terrible as the Dark Side must be, that the Jedi had long ago become corrupt. They slaved under the will of the people, currying favour and gathering quiet power until they no longer resembled what they once purported to be; servants of the Force.

And the Force is a living and breathing thing. A river that flows through everything from the most infinitesimal speck of stardust to the edges of the galaxy and perhaps even beyond, to places unknowable beyond the imagination of even the greatest enlightened minds. Its intention was not to steal and enslave infants. Its will was not to be ruled by fear of upsetting those in power in exchange for some small semblance of a voice in galactic matters. The Jedi Order, she can see more clearly now than ever before, was nothing more than rotting fruit on the Force’s branches, dragging it down with the weight of its corruption.  And as surely as the tears flowed freely down her face for what she knows has been lost because of it, for the innocence and sweetness and life that was now nothing more than a guttered candle, she understands that the will of the Force was for Anakin to... to wipe clean the slate. To destroy every last vestige of what was, in order for what could be to come about. The restoration of balance, to restore the Force itself and not what sentients had made of it.

She recalls a poem she had read in the archives, only a fraction of it as she let go of her anger. Her confusion. As she gave herself as always, to the Force and its will.

Even as it is for your growth, so it is for your pruning. Even as it ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So shall it descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Biscuit retrieves her lightsabre without a word of protest from her. She can hear the sigh as she looks up into his face. Despite this directive of his, there is some kindness left in the clone. “I’ll make it quick, Lady. Painless.” “A moment more, please?” He nods. She straightens up as sharply as her spine will allow, and levels her chin. She passes a hand over her face to wipe away any traces of emotion that lingered damply on her cheeks and tried, ridiculously, to straighten her hair. Doing so, she conceals clever little gestures with her fingers. “You should take me to him. He will want to do this himself.” “I...I should take you to him. He will want to do this himself.” She takes a step forward, relieves him of her sabre, and wraps a delicate hand around the white and blue armour. Her steps to the grand hall are silent compared to his own and they do not speak during the trek. She looks neither left nor right. Doesn’t look at the bodies strewn where they fell. Does not acknowledge the char and pockmarks that scattered across the walls from blaster fire. The fire and smouldering ash does not make her tremble though she fears that only second to what they will find. The smoke doesn’t bother her at all. In fact she forgets to make herself breathe in those achingly long moments. The Temple all around her that was once home is now a tomb.

Biscuit leaves her there in the centre of the hall. Takes a stance somewhere out of her periphery and she wonders later how badly he will be punished for allowing her to cloud his mind. For allowing her to come into the presence of his Lord armed and utterly capable of cutting him down if she were fast enough, clever enough.

And what does she find? Significantly more than she had hoped but disturbingly less than what she feared. He looks like a ghost haunting himself. Blurred and fractured at the edges, worn so thin she can practically see Coruscant beyond the doors behind him. Awash with old blood and new, and light that could be either from the dying of the day. His eyes are so hollow. His face drawn and remote and before he even acknowledges that she is there, she can feel him crawling over a threshold of breaking. This is not a man proud of what he has done, not a man who will ever sleep again knowing he has done the right thing, even if that is exactly what Anakin has done. Frangible arms wend around her in his terrible silence. Her eyes close as he brushes his mouth against the crown of her hair and breathes her deeply as if for the first time he can. Breathe. Take air deep into his lungs and scour his psyche with her presence. A hand comes up to his chest where his heart beats strong but erratic. And then? It isn’t a question. Nor is it a command. It isn’t even a choice because choice implied she had a say. No senator, no chancellor, no master, no living being loves Anakin the way she does. Nor had they in all the years before except for maybe his mother. And in an entirely different way. No. It isn’t a choice. And no one would ever have been foolish enough to believe that it was. She untangles herself from Anakin. Braces one foot behind her, shifts her centre of gravity. With preternatural reflexes, she reaches for and takes hold of her sabre. Thumbs the near flat depression on the hilt and allows the purple blade to ignite in the gathering gloom around them. Sees its glow flash in glossiness of his eyes.

Her other hand comes up. There’s a little flip and suddenly the blade is laid across both hands, and she curtsies before him, deep and tired and inscrutable. She does not have a heart, but if she did, it would be bleeding for her little sun, for her Anakin. “In all things, in all ways, I am yours to command, my Lord.” Loud enough to be heard by the gathered clones. Then quietly, more intimately, meant for his ears alone... “That is maybe the stupidest thing you have ever asked of me, Ani. The answer is always yes.”

[babyspacebatclone]

You ever assume you’ve dealt with trauma, because you discuss it freely with people and have worked on it and actively take time to consider your triggers and your trigger response is reducing?

And it’s been several years since you, for example, have consistently worked with children capable of cause and effect thinking, but you’ve been doing great working with toddlers and babies, any lingering trauma from working with traumatized preadolescents has been dealt with.

And you’ve been working with defiant preschoolers for a month now, but all you see is how great you’re doing, how calm you are and how you’re able to be consistent about applying the general expectations to encourage emotional refutation and patience in your children?

And it’s great, you’re proud of your job, you’re proud of your work…

And then something makes you suddenly seriously consider the long-term consequences for these children if they don’t address these behaviors?

And you suddenly remember that time in January 2021 when a group of individuals who were not taught proper emotional regulation, patience, and basic consideration for others decided a group of “others” were trying to take away their rights?

And exactly what you’ve been fighting for five years, despite getting PTSD the first time you tried, suddenly feels all too real and giant?

…..

Yeah, I’m going through some things right now.

[emborgor]

Both.

TW: I will be talking about CP and SA in the first paragraph CW: Transphobia, homophobia, book banning, politics, this is a post about negative things. Please skip this if you are not interested or are not mentally able to handle it, or any other reason you would like.

While I know this is about the ban on books, BOTH of my elementary school principals have either been charged with or rumored to have child porn on their devices. Pedophiles are everywhere, where do you think a lot of people with sexual trauma from early ages and maybe even older minors got it?

My high school also has A Court of Thorns and Roses and A Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas in it's library. The amount of smut that doesn't do anything for the plot in those books is absurd, even if they're romance novels, to my asexual brain. The christian bible has plenty of NSFW in it. Kids are reading that all over, given to them by parents, churches, or even libraries and schools.

These religious conservatives are not including the bible in their list of books to ban from schools (it's a situation in the USA for those not from here) unless somebody else forces them to consider it. Why? Because they think the bible is something everybody should read (at least in some/a lot/most cases, this is an educated guess).

Though the book bans are not the topic, it's an example of the overly broad views on obscenity. The common reasons for books being banned are as follows according to https://firstamendmentmuseum.org/how-do-books-get-banned/:

sexual content (92.5% percent of books on the list)

offensive language (61.5%)

unsuited to age group (49%)

religious viewpoint (26%)

LGBTQIA+ content (23.5%)

violence (19%)

racism (16.5%)

use of illegal substances (12.5%)

“anti-family” content (7%)

political viewpoint (6.5%)

If LGBTQIA+ books are considered obcene and people are willing to ban them simply for being like that, it is because it either overlaps with some of the other reasons, or that people are afraid that the books will "turn the children gay" or "turn the children trans" when that is not how it works. That is a transphobic view and transphobic propaganda, likely spread by the conservative politicians. Let alone that political viewpoint statistic! The Lorax by Dr. Suess was banned in a school in California too. That is absurd.

And if you think "oh all books with gay clearly are nsfw", stop sexualizing gay people and making that all they can be, for one (especially because there are a lot of minors). For two, if the books wouldn't turn the kids gay or trans (I see nothing wrong with exposure but I suppose it could be a reason. Albeit a terrible one.) in the eyes of the politicians/schools/parents, why would the book being LGBTQIA+ be so terrible? And if you believe it is not a transphobic belief, then why not have the LGBTQIA+ reason turn into "The characters have a gender during this story" (what a big issue) and "Romantic/sexual relationships", because if the kids will turn gay with the gay representation, then the kids will also turn straight with straight representation.

What seems more likely to be true?

That the US is full of pedophiles, and teachers and librarians all over the country are handing out porn to children?

Or that a bunch of religious conservatives and elderly politicians have an overly-broad definition of "obscene" and use fear and paranoia to convince everyone to conform to it?

[werewolfetone]

More American Civil War political cartoons because I’m having to look at them for school and they are Really Something

[amygdalae]

the essay im writin is abt A Modest Proposal by Jonathan Swift and. ooh boy every now and then i sorta remember what the text is about like when u just read it at face value and im like augh

[heterophobiclesbean]

whats febfem?

“Female exclusive bisexual (female)” like 99% of the time i have seen this term its been from a bisexual terf. there are bi women who only date women (which doesnt make them not bi btw, bi women can make whatever choices about their dating lives that they deem fit and your opinion about it is irrelevant) but like. I cant recall ever seeing someone describe themselves as “febfem” without just like flat out being a whole ass terf or some other kind of transphobe. normal people dont exclusively refer to women as “females” but like. you really cant expect anything else from terfs so

[alkalineleak]

TW IM PRETENTIOUS ABOUT NARRATIVE THEMES AND WRITING

Theres three main waves that the martyrdom comes in: the examples (prime force), the following (elementals and all major Current heroes), and the collateral damage (PD and the mini-heroes/vigilantes)

Now the thing is, the degree of which the martyrdom being "useful" decreases each time it is being used to hold up the ideal. the best example of this can be the most useful example was the prime force! they saved the world, it revolutionized how society functioned socially as well and politically. Contrast this with Ashe Winters. Yes she saved her friends, her family and maybe 3 other people she knew, but in the end she can't come back from being the trickster fully. She is the new terror in Prime. She is revolutionizing fear through the want to save what is in front of her.

Rest is under the cut

Compare them. both losing massive parts of themselves for a greater good. Only one is successful (to an extent), and its due (at least narratively) to point of view regarding How many people you do it for, and at what point of time

Self-centered-ness and the past vs community centered and the future. The prime force were forced to leave their lives to continue on a new phase of society through a harsh move forwards. The prime defenders and ashe still live in the past, trying to evolve into their own states of being using how their experiences molded them, and through processing it all they only focus on themselves as people, who they live around and how to fix things

This will seem unrelated but it is i promise!! duality is a very common concept, get two opposite things and compare them thematically. However, a common criticism of it is when you compare the two, you assume one is better than the other (ie The transcendant mind above the material flesh, the clear light vs the unknowing and possibly dangerous dark).

Now hold these two ideals in your mind right. Self-centered heroism vs collectivistic heroism. What does it mean to be the Right type of sacrifice and martyr?

Ashe became a monster herself, but she saved her friends, father, and a few others. She did it even though she knew the cost. But shes ust the villain causing heroes to go rogue isnt she?

But lets compare someone else: shockwave! he died protecting a small group of people for the sake of keeping the peace. so his death is glorified, its looked back on with Tiny pieces of pride. Even over all the guilt, he died a hero. it Means something more to a general public.

And at this point you sort of have to realize that this viewpoint isnt shared by the main characters at all, but by the people around them thatre specifically trying to view them as heroes, to which you start noticing the fragmented pieces of humanity vs heroism. You cant be a good one with both.

the closest thing we have is Dakota and the thing about him is that even though he is a good person and wants to do things for the right reasons for EVERYONE he possibly can, it he didnt have that fucking heart surgery it wouldve killed him. And the thing is, dying with a heart that couldve saved hundreds wouldve probably been viewed by a larger group or even JUST watch as a Net positive.

Like. Like. at one point do you fucking seperate being alive with being a good person, and why is the second being put above every single person so much more HIGHLY and the previous?

idk. im going fucking insane

anyways does anyone wanna talk about the accidental theme of useless martyrdom inside of prime defenders or is it just me

[the-great-lightwood-bane]

Whispered Truth, Spoken Lies

Malec | Rated general | tw mention of biphobia, racism | Canon Compliant, in that canon never directly denies this, 5+1 things, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Demisexual Magnus Bane

Summary: 5 times somebody else tells Magnus something about Alec, and one time Magnus tells Alec something about himself.

A/N: Written for the Shadowhunters Ace Mini Bang.

Thanks to Liron for the beta and for organising this whole event!

Check out the amazing art (you can see it below the cut or on Twitter and Tumblr) by Xani (@soulless-baka, Xani9, or love_xani)!

Inspiration for the first scene drawn from the @malecdiscordserver and this Twitter thread.

Read it on AO3 or below the cut.

1. Izzy

Today, Alec thinks rather giddily with an arm wrapped around Magnus’ shoulders, is unquestionably the best day of his life. 

How could it not be? The numerous threats that have loomed over them over the last few months — over the entirety of their relationship — are gone; most, if not all, of their family and friends have made it out alive; and, most importantly, they’re married. This is their wedding day. Alec’s not usually one for sappiness, but today, it’s well-deserved. 

Magnus grins up at him like he can read his mind and agrees, like he too feels the warmth that fills Alec up with love. They’ve been glued to each other all evening; the longest they’ve been separated today was because Izzy split them up to get them dressed for the wedding, and that only lasted an hour before they were at the altar together. Throughout the reception — including Jace’s hilarious but surprisingly meaningful best man speech — they’ve stuck together, unwilling to let the other one out of sight, and Alec wouldn’t have it any other way. Whenever things got a bit chaotic, because Alec loves his family and tolerates large Clave gatherings but doesn’t exactly adore parties per se, Magnus was there with soft touches and warm smiles that brought it all back down to just the two of them. 

But now, the chaos appears to be winding down — or not, Alec amends, watching Izzy step gracefully up onto the table. Her heels are fully eight inches tall, and he’s not sure how she can put them on, let alone stand up in them, but she doesn’t sway and manages to avoid stepping on any chinaware. 

Silence falls, heads turning in surprise, and when she has enough attention to satisfy herself, Izzy activates a rune on the wall which lights the wall up like a screen reading, in bold lettering, ALEC’S GLASS CLOSET. 

Alec feels heat rise preemptively in his face. This is going to be embarrassing. 

“Hello, everybody!” she declares cheerily. “This has been much more fun than Alec’s first wedding” — she and Jace are taking every possible chance to make digs about that, especially as Lydia is in attendance today; it is nevertheless true that the bright colours and grins on every face beat out the sober, polite, Clave-sanctioned smiles of his attempted marriage to Lydia — “but I think Alec can stand to blush a bit more, so I’ve made a presentation.”

She snaps her fingers, and the screen changes to something Alec automatically recognises as security footage from within the Institute, displaying a younger Alec — perhaps eighteen? — standing in Ops. As the wedding crowd watches, one of the other Shadowhunters turns away, and Alec’s eyes flick down to his ass, then up. Titters break out as the scene changes, to a different camera’s viewpoint, and the same thing happens again, with somebody else; Alec doesn’t want to know how much trawling through camera feeds Izzy’s done to come up with this, but despite the blush staining his cheeks, it is objectively hilarious. 

The scenes move forward in time as the presentation goes on; Alec grows from a still-gangly eighteen-year-old to a broader 21 over the compilation. He’d thought he was subtle about checking guys out, but clearly not; Izzy’s found enough vids to fill minutes, even though each one is barely seconds long. He doesn’t ever check out Jace; it’s not in the recording, but Alec knows that every time he caught himself looking at his parabatai like that, he’d felt a rush of shame strong enough to glue his eyes to the floor. 

Clary and co. show up with a bang — Alec had forgotten about that time he’d checked Simon out, but clearly Izzy’s managed to hack something or other to obtain footage — and it’s only a moment later that Magnus shows up. 

There’s a fair bit of laughter when the videos promptly become a series of shots of Alec admiring Magnus, and Alec thinks he’s probably red up to the roots of his hair. Magnus is laughing along with the rest, though, and Alec can’t help the besotted look he sends him. (Jace, on his other side, mutters something about now they’re doing it again, but Alec quite cheerfully ignores him. Jace has been complaining about their sappiness all evening, but the sappiness in their parabatai bond belies his words.)

The last image is their kiss at the wedding, and Izzy’s beaming as the wall returns to its normal colour. “Jace got to be best man — parabatai rights, yada yada yada — but I’m making my own speech, so listen up.”

The crowd quiets a bit. “As you can see, Alec’s never been as closeted as he thought he was—” she pauses for the sniggers to die down “—but he was never able to be open about it, either. I’d known he was gay for years, but I didn’t dare say anything, and he thought I’d reject him for it if I knew.” 

Alec feels his throat tighten, but with emotion rather than the fear he would’ve felt a few months earlier if he’d known his sexuality wasn’t as secret as he thought. He’s learnt, over the past months, that both Jace and Izzy already knew and that Maryse suspected, but it hasn’t really sunk in yet. Magnus squeezes his hand, and he feels a surge of impossible gratitude for him, for all of them. For the life he has now, in which he can hold hands with the man who’s turned his life upside down in the very best of ways, in which he can lead an Institute and love a Downworlder. 

Izzy’s face brightens into a less serious smirk. “Also, we all noticed that he stopped checking out other guys the moment Magnus showed up, which was really the first sign that it meant something.” The smirk tips sideways into something softer again. “And look at them now — so wrapped up in each other they barely notice anyone else. Jace already said this part for me, so I won’t go on about it, but thank you, Magnus, for loving my brother.”

She steps off of the table — not stumbling, despite her heels — as everyone claps, and the smile Magnus gives Alec makes the whole world brighter. 

2. Maryse

Alec loves his mother, he really does, and he’s incredibly grateful that she’s accepted Magnus almost as her own son, but sometimes he wishes they weren’t quite such good friends. 

For instance, right now, when Magnus has tugged his chair closer to Maryse’s to look at the photo album she’s showing him. A photo album of Alec’s childhood. This is a disaster.

Magnus is, admittedly, cooing, but he is also laughing far harder than Alec’s dignity is happy about, especially when Maryse tells a particularly embarrassing story. Like the one about six-year-old Alec wanting to help Izzy learn to use a whip, trying to steal one from an older Shadowhunter, and getting tangled up in it, at which point Maryse managed to take a picture; Alec admits that he looked ridiculous, but Magnus’ commentary is more along the lines of adorable, which is completely unacceptable.  

(Alec had eventually succeeded in obtaining a whip, learning to use it, and then teaching Izzy; he stopped learning with her once she was well on her way to mastery, and she’s better than him by now.)

“You were so cute as a child,” Magnus tells him, grinning. “You’ve already got that serious little frown, which is still adorable now, but it’s even cuter on such a small face.”

“Shut up,” Alec replies, face brick-red. “Can’t we do something else now?”

Maryse laughs, rather evilly. “But we’ve only seen the one album! I’ve still got two more—”

“Absolutely not,” Alec retorts, glaring at her. “If I knew you were just going to tell embarrassing stories about me, I wouldn’t’ve invited you here.”

“Actually, I invited her here,” Magnus interposes, “and I’m really enjoying learning about how adorable you were as a child.”

Alec continues his staring contest with Maryse. “I’ll — figure out something embarrassing to tell Luke.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Good luck with that.”

“I’ll stop inviting you over to the Institute.” It’s an empty threat, and she knows it. 

“That’s what I have Izzy and Jace for.”

A thought strikes. “I’ll make that stew for you again.” 

Horror spreads on Maryse’s face, and she caves. “…What if I told you a story about Magnus instead?”

Magnus’ brows pinch. “You don’t know any stories about me — or at least, none that Alec doesn’t know already.”

“Is that so?” She raises an eyebrow. “Well, I remember a certain day, twenty or so years ago, back when I was in the Circle—”

Realisation dawns on Magnus’ face, but too late. 

“The circumstances weren’t — ideal” — the shadows on her face bear testimony to the likely corruptness of whatever she was doing — “but I do recall claiming that I wanted to create a better world for myself and my son. Care to say what you replied, Magnus?”

Magnus huffs nonchalantly, but Alec can tell from his expression that he knows exactly what he said and is dreading Maryse’s reveal of it. “Something embarrassing, I’m sure.”

“It was, if I recall correctly, ‘I have no interest in the world you want. Or in your doubtless repellent brat, I might add.’” She’s clearly barely holding back laughter. “Little did you — or I — know that in twenty years, you’d be married to that same ‘doubtless repellent brat’.”

A groan from Magnus, but Alec’s too busy laughing. 

After all, fair’s fair. 

3. Simon

“Sherman!” Magnus greets, smiling. “Lovely to see you, my dear.”

“Not lovely enough to remember my name, though?” Simon returns, sighing. 

“Of course I know your name, Samuel,” Magnus shoots back with a grin. “Come in, everyone else’s here already—”

Alec waves as Simon comes in, then wraps an arm around Magnus’ shoulders as his husband settles down beside him. Magnus relaxes into the touch. Jace, Clary, and Izzy are scattered around the room on Magnus’ various comfortable chairs; Simon takes a spot beside Clary and gratefully accepts the glass of blood Magnus snaps into his hand. 

As the spurt of greetings dies down, Jace returns to the topic they’d been discussing before Simon came in: teasing Alec for being, quote, “a simp for Magnus”. Alec listens with something caught between embarrassment and pride, while Magnus is outright chuckling. 

“See, nobody else is like that about their significant other,” Jace declares, hands waving in the air. 

“I seem to recall using Raziel’s Wish to bring you back from the dead,” Clary points out. 

“Yeah, but Alec said he’d do the same for Magnus.”

“I agree with Jace,” Simon puts in, to the blond’s surprise. “Alec’s hardcore. Remember when he wanted to become a vampire so he could go to Edom to be with Magnus?”

Alec stops paying attention, because Magnus has abruptly stiffened at his side, and he realises that Magnus didn’t know about that whole thing. It hadn’t seemed relevant, since Magnus was safe with no such measures necessary; Alec might’ve told Magnus about it if it came up, but he’d honestly forgotten about the whole thing. 

Clearly, it isn’t quite as irrelevant to Magnus, who’s staring at Alec in shock and disbelief — an expression that Alec has seen before whenever Magnus can’t believe that Alec is willing to do something for him. An expression which Alec is more familiar with than he’d like. Often, his heart aches for Magnus, who’s been burned so many times by so many people that basic common decency seems like something out of the ordinary. 

“You were going to do what?” Magnus hisses, voice low and almost terrified. Apparently, disbelief has given way to anger. 

“Turn myself into a vampire so I could go to Edom with you,” Alec replies, implacable. The others sitting around the room seem to fade away, eclipsed by the man in front of him. “Nephilim can’t enter Edom — or couldn’t, without Clary’s Alliance rune — and I needed to get to Edom, which meant not being Nephilim anymore.”

“You’d lose your runes,” Magnus says, and Alec resists the impulse to say Well, duh. 

Instead, he meets Magnus’ eyes with all the love he holds inside of him, the love that sometimes feels so big and explosive that he wonders if he’ll implode under the weight of it. He never does; this love only makes him stronger. “You’re more important than my runes, Magnus.”

Magnus makes a sharp, cut-off sound, like he isn’t sure if he wants to strangle Alec or kiss him. “More than your parabatai rune? Alec, you didn’t think it through—”

“I thought it through,” Alec retorts. “Losing my parabatai bond would be bad, but I wouldn’t be losing Jace — he’s just as much my brother with the rune or without. Even if I was losing Jace, though—” and Alec hesitates for a moment, not from uncertainty but because he needs Magnus to know how true this is, how much he means it “—even then, I’d do it, Magnus, because you are worth everything.” He knows Magnus, knows that all his life he’s been taught that he is worth less than others, that he’s somehow less important because he can smile and laugh even under the weight of centuries. You are not inconsequential, he wants to say, wants to smooth away those years of pain. He’ll get there eventually. 

For a moment of frozen stillness, Magnus stares at him with that same disbelief rising in his no-longer-glamoured eyes, and then he falls forward to kiss Alec with all he has. Alec holds him close, almost desperately, and pours all that he feels into the kiss. 

Behind them, Clary is reluctantly admitting that what Alec and Magnus have is a bit more, but Alec ignores them in favour of the man in his arms. 

4. Raphael

Dinners with Magnus’ side of the family ought to be more embarrassing for Magnus than they were for Alec — and they usually are, thanks to Cat’s propensity for giving Alec all the best tales of Magnus’ past adventures — but tonight is clearly an exception. 

It starts off well enough: Cat tells yet another story about Magnus in Peru, leaving Alec to wonder exactly how many minor catastrophes Magnus has caused and why it took Peru so long to ban him; Magnus groans half-heartedly and protests, though he knows from experience that it’s hopeless. After Cat leaves for her next shift at the hospital, however, Raphael apparently takes pity on Magnus and decides to do a Maryse: tell stories about Alec. 

The problem is that Raphael is one of the very, very few who know a particularly embarrassing secret. “Have I told you about Alec’s first crush?”

Magnus raises an eyebrow. “I think we all know Alec used to like Jace, my dear boy.”

“That wasn’t Alec’s first crush, though.” Raphael is obviously suppressing an evil grin, and Alec puts his head in his hands. 

Wrinkling his brow, Magnus glances first at Raphael, then at Alec, then back again. “Who was it, then?”

“I’ll let Lightwood tell you.” Raphael leans back in his seat, apparently satisfied that he’s caused Alec’s reputation sufficient damage. He doesn’t even need to keep pressing the issue; Magnus is obviously intrigued, and he won’t let Alec avoid this particular confession. Shit. 

Magnus turns to Alec expectantly. 

Alec huffs and crosses his arms. 

Magnus’ eyes widen pleadingly. 

Alec sighs. He’s never been able to resist those eyes. Magnus beams, and he can’t really regret anything that brings such a bright smile to his husband’s face. 

“Keep in mind that I was eleven at the time,” Alec starts, “and I didn’t have much exposure to guys.” He has no doubt Magnus will be laughing by the end of this, but he’d like to justify himself a bit in advance. 

“Go on,” Magnus says, still grinning. 

Alec sighs again, deeply, but goes on. “I’d caught wind of a vampire and a Silent Brother who’d come to talk to Maryse and Robert. Naturally, I told Izzy and hurried over to eavesdrop, mostly because a Silent Brother seemed like an important guest. The Brother — Jem Carstairs, actually — was telling them something interesting about a yin fen shipment, but I was distracted by the vampire.” Alec gestures to Raphael and waits for the realisation to sink in. 

Magnus’ eyes widen, and he promptly bursts into laughter. “Wait — you’re telling me — Raphael?” he manages between gasps. 

“Raphael,” Alec confirms, lips twitching to echo the smile splitting Magnus’ face. He’s laughing free and light and happy, and Alec can’t really mind the minor embarrassment. 

Eventually, Magnus calms down enough to talk properly. “Alexander, I cannot believe you would do this,” he says, putting on an overdramatic look of utter betrayal. “This entire time, you’ve been after my adoptive son.” 

The vampire squints at the moniker. Alec raises an eyebrow, deadpan. “Yes. I actually married you to get closer to Raphael. That makes complete sense and is definitely something I would do.” 

Magnus loses the battle against another round of delighted laughter, and Alec relaxes back in his chair with a smile. 

5. Lydia

This week has apparently been designated the Embarrass Alec Lightwood Week, because the day after the Raphael revelations (which Magnus probably won’t stop teasing Alec about for years), Lydia shows up for their semi-regular dinners together with yet another story in tow. 

Perhaps it was odd that one of Alec’s best friends in Alicante is his ex-fiancé, but there’s a reason he proposed to her in the first place: she’s a lot like him, in personality and in goals, and he knew she’d make a good co-Head. They probably would’ve ended up hating each other, trapped in a loveless marriage, but as friends, they simply work. 

To Alec, it’s more surprising how well Lydia gets along with Magnus — their personalities couldn’t be more different — but then again, the same could be said of Alec and Magnus. Initially, the relationship between Alec’s husband and his ex-fiancée was mostly swapping stories of Henry Branwell, but it’s shifting to encompass things that make Alec blush. 

“Izzy’s presentation at the wedding was hilarious,” Lydia is saying, grinning. 

“It was!” Magnus beams back. “I knew he was a disaster gay, but I didn’t know he was a disaster gay.” 

“I’d already seen the disaster gay brain in action, though,” Lydia says, and Alec feels a sudden surge of worry as to what secrets she’ll spill. Magnus leans forward, interested. “It was before we met, back when Alec was determinedly closeted — or thought he was, at least.” (Alec huffs.) “Anyway, I suggested we talk to you for some reason or other. Alec said — and I quote — ‘Magnus is, um… quite magical.’” 

Alec buries his face in his hands. 

+1. Magnus

“I have a confession,” Magnus says, rather abruptly, and Alec looks up in surprise. 

They’re in the loft, just relaxing in each other’s company, but something in Magnus’ voice suggests that this is a more serious topic than their previous discussion, a debate over where to have dinner. Magnus’ expression confirms the hypothesis: he’s frowning slightly, a hint of hesitance in his eyes. He’s still sitting half on Alec’s lap, half on the couch, with one arm wrapped around Alec, but there’s nevertheless something uncertain in his posture. 

“Go on,” Alec tells him, when he pauses before continuing. He doesn’t want to push, but Magnus has clearly been working himself up to this for a while, only to hesitate at the last moment; he needs a bit of encouragement to get past it. 

“I… may have lied to you on our first date,” Magnus says, after another moment, eyes darting away from Alec’s. 

“About what?” Alec prompts again. 

“I haven’t — you asked me how many people I’d been with.” Magnus is reluctant, but determined; Alec wonders how long he’s been thinking about this. “I didn’t — well, even if I had had sex with seventeen thousand people, I doubt I’d remember the exact number. As it is, I’ve been with… fewer.”

Alec considers that. He’s never really thought about that conversation, not since he decided it didn’t matter how many people Magnus had been with; as he thinks about it now, though, it does seem unlikely that Magnus knows the exact number of people he’s had sex with, and seventeen thousand is a lot. But that can hardly be the confession Magnus seems so anxious about. 

Magnus swallows, then keeps talking. “I don’t know how well you remember that conversation, but when you asked me how many, I said ‘seventeen’.”

“And then you hesitated, and I assumed you meant seventeen thousand,” Alec agrees. 

“I’ve only been with seventeen people, total,” Magnus says softly. “I know I — I build up this persona of somebody who has sex a lot, and obviously there’s nothing wrong with that, but for me, it’s — it’s just seventeen.”

Alec blinks at him, then quickly wraps an arm around Magnus’ shoulders to pull him closer because there’s an awful terrified expression on Magnus’ face, as though he fears Alec’s going to — to leave him, or something ridiculous like that. “I said it then, and I’ll say it again now,” Alec murmurs into his hair. “I don’t care how many people you’ve been with — or haven’t been with, as the case may be.” 

Magnus relaxes into Alec’s hold, tracing his fingers over his wrist. “I know you don’t care. Logically, at least,” he amends at Alec’s raised eyebrow, because Magnus had certainly seemed worried about Alec’s reaction. “It’s just that… well, because of the way I dress and my sexuality — and, at certain times in the past, because of my skin colour — people tend to assume that I have sex more than I do, even when they don’t deem me some sort of sexual predator. And if I told someone I was with that I don’t have sex that much, they’d be disappointed, or confused, or they’d leave. So I’d lie about it, like I lied to you. I pretended I had sex as often as they all assumed I had. Took control of the narrative, in some sense. Learned to flirt. And the few times I’ve confessed the truth, it… hasn’t gone well.” 

“Camille?” Alec asks, recognising the expression on Magnus’ face. 

“Among others,” Magnus confirms. “She — she said it was unnatural, for an immortal to be such a prude. Said I needed to enjoy life more. Said the only reason she cheated on me was because I was lacking, and if I didn’t understand why she’d cheat, it was because I was somehow wrong.” 

Alec holds him even closer in the momentary silence that follows, hoping that he can convey with his embrace that Camille was the one in the wrong, always, that there was never anything wrong with Magnus. Judging by the soft shudder Magnus makes in Alec’s arms, he got the message across. 

“I am… different, though,” Magnus says quietly, half-muffled in Alec’s shirt. “I mean, obviously there are people — even immortals — who don’t go around having sex (and far more who don’t cheat on their partners), but it’s not like that for me. It’s like — it’s that I don’t want to have sex with a random stranger. I want to get to know them first. It’s only when I already like their personality that I actually feel attracted to them.”

“I’m not going to judge you for that,” Alec says. “I love you. You love me. Everything else is — academic.”

Magnus’ smile is imprinted on Alec’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“I know,” Alec points out, half joking, then becomes serious again. “But have you considered — I mean, I don’t know a lot about it, but I was reading a bunch of mundane articles on sexuality and such, and do you think you could be some flavour of asexual?”

When Magnus raises his head, his mouth is slightly open, and he’s blinking quickly. “I… hadn’t thought of that.” He’s silent for another moment, considering. “I’m not fully ace, since I definitely feel attracted to some people” — he leers at Alec — “but I might be… greysexual. Demisexual, maybe.” He glances down at his fingernails, thoughtful, and the nail polish shimmers as it shifts to the colours of the demisexual flag. 

“And that’s for you to decide,” Alec tells him, gently. “Whichever one you are, I love you.”

“I know,” Magnus says, a bright flash of a grin illuminating his face, and Alec thinks that this, here, is all he’ll ever need.